Money may not be able to buy you class, but as that man-voiced woman on The Real Housewives of New York that used to be married to this guy proves, it can buy you a female robot to sing the hook you hired a different female robot to write for you. I have to be honest, it was only a few days ago that I was lamenting the lack of spoken word songs with Garage Band beats. Has it really been 12 years since that ‘Sunscreen Song’ dominated Top 40 radio and played our heart strings like the devil’s own golden fiddle?
To be honest, I can’t say I’m surprised that a person from The Real Housewives of New York was so accurately able to gauge our collective consciousness and give us exactly what we want. She is, after all, on a show that provides a much needed window into the petty arguments of women who are rich because they had sex with rich people.* Obviously toiling every day in that kind of creative atmosphere makes her a cultural bellwether.
And then there’s the music itself. Not only is her sassy-talking catchy, but it’s no-nonsense approach simultaneously refuses to take nonsense, while ignoring that nonsense and somehow slapping the idea of nonsense in the face. The song also has character. To be specific, it has an exact character, Countess Luann de Lesseps, the evil and maniacal matriarch of an etiquette dynasty in an upcoming Disney movie where the matron-saint of ‘being classy’ turns out to kidnap orphaned children and keep them locked away in a floating castle of sadness where they are conditioned to become her door-holding minions. Can’t you see her sing-talking ‘Money Can’t Buy You Class’ as she prances around her gilded mansion, ash from her freakishly long cigarette marking her slow-dancing path through the downstairs, as her sad-sack assistant who hasn’t yet discovered the secret of her bosses success, and in an ironic twist will discover the 101 children she can’t have and has always wanted, follows her every move.
*Wouldn’t a show called Real Housewives of Mobile be infinitely more entertaining? Just sayin…
It’s recently come to my attention that I share a remarkable number of characteristics with Bill Cosby’s character Cliff Huxtable on The Cosby Show. So you can understand the scope of our similarities, allow me to create a short and digestable list.
- We both live in a City. And while we don’t live in the same city, I do live near a block that looks kinda like the one the Huxtable’s lived on. And I have also started a neighborhood watch that somehow scared away gun-toting gangs through multi-racial solidarity.
- We’re both Doctors. Cliff Huxtable is a Physician, a doctor in the classic sense, while I am a more theoretical Doctor, one without any ‘degrees’ or ‘expertise’ any ‘experience’ or ‘know how’.
- We both have crazy dreams when we eat late at night. Granted, my dreams tend to be about zombies more than me being pregnant or me meeting my elementary school aged daughter as a wise-cracking adult, but we do both have crazy dreams from food.
- We both lick our lips and puff out our chests like a threatened bird when we make elaborate sandwiches that include no less than five kinds of deli meat and are complimented by the contents of a label-free jar of mysterious spread.
- We both like to sneak sandwiches and half-filled glasses of juice into our bedroom to eat in the middle of the night for some reason.
- We both seem to be awkwardly focused on the making and eating of sandwiches to the point where it takes over our life.
- We both tuck our hands back at the wrist and hold them against our sides when we dance into a room.
- We have both have dressed up with our families and danced a free-form Salsa, uncertain whether the music was following us or us the music.
- We both have a rival named “Tailwind Turner”. Mine isn’t a track rival but an evil pilot, the helmsman of a bright green bi-plane that I often dual from my own late twenties fighter.
- We both attended the fictional Hillman College, which, coincidentally, is where I got my aforementioned doctorate.
- We both have African American fathers who play trombone in a jazz quartet, talk slow, have lots of old friends and no a thing or two about a thing or two.
I could go on for days, but I, like Cliff Huxtable, get tired early. I just hope my obnoxious pre-pubescent neighbor doesn’t come by and interrupt my first attempt at relaxing after a long day with a series of inane but somehow insightful questions.
During a search on the internet I recently found a list of alternate names Mike “The Situation” from the Jersey Shore considered.
- The Circumstance
- Big Daddy Serendipity
- Professor Always Conscious of my immediate surroundings and the contextual events therein
- Lady Luck
- Harold Happenstance
- Commander Conditional
- The Capital of the State of Affairs is Mike
- H.W. Prevailing Windsingham
I tend to think if he’d gone with H.W. Prevailing Windsingham we would have heard of this man way before The Jersey Shore, making all of our lives up to this point that much richer.
The Holiday Season can be a challenge even for the wealthy, gainfully employed among us, to say nothing of all us unemployed gift-givers. The one advantage the unemployed have this year is time. Time to find the perfect gift, something different, something real, something meaningful, something like a phone conversation of undetermined length with Mr. Belding.
If I had lots of time and lots of money, I would call him every day at the same time and try and form a real friendship only to suddenly and without explanation stop, causing him to wonder for the rest of the life what happened and if we were really friends. Sure it would cost thousands of dollars if you wanted to do it right, but is thousands of dollars too much to pay to make TV’s Mr. Belding think about you every day at the same time and wonder “Why?”
I think not.